Nobody For Me But You
by Kazzabelle
Summary: FINALLY, UPDATES! Anne returns to Avonlea, only to learn that Gil is dying. What happens when a misunderstanding results in a bitter separation & Rachel Lynde's handsome grandson visits Avonlea? Will true love conquer all? Please review
1. A New Beginning

**Foreword:**

You may remember this story from about four years ago. Time goes by so quickly! Lots of things happened in my personal life that stopped me from continuing, and I only just recovered my login details. I'm sorry to those fans who did enjoy the story and kept asking for updates!

I've decided to rewrite a lot of this story, although the plot is, I promise, the same. I'm working through rewrites and will soon be adding a new chapter.

**Story Notes:**

I was never "into" the AoGG books as much as I was into the movies. So this story is based more closely on _Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel, _by Kevin Sullivan. His movie incorporates the books _Anne of the Island _and _Anne of Windy Poplars. _This is why avid book fans might see some differences in plot that were developed by Mr Sullivan.

This story takes place at the point in the movie where Anne decides to come home after a teaching term at Kingsport Ladies College. In this version, she does not bring with her Katherine Brook, the sour headmistress. There are going to be a number of similarities between this story and further details of the movie, but most of it takes a completely different turn. (Some may also get the idea that the opening chapter is modelled somewhat on the opening scene from _Anne of Green Gables: The Continuing Story _- if you guessed that, you're right!)

Oh, please also note that some minor plot details will be changed to fit in with my story. I apologise to anybody who disagrees with these changes, but it's what I like to call artistic licence!

I do hope you enjoy this story! Please review - I like feedback.

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**Chapter 1: A New Beginning**

The rippling waters coursing between the Canadian mainland and Prince Edward Island revealed a young woman of twenty-two, with rich auburn hair, gathered loosely and pinned back with a simple clasp; grey-green eyes, shining brightly with anticipation as they gazed over the rail of the boat. Her new lace blouse with well-fitting grey-blue pinafore dress clung to her slim figure in all the right places. She looked immaculately groomed, and though her clothing was not extravagant, her air and her beauty suggested that she could, without much effort, be mistaken for a well-to-do society member from London. However, it was just Anne; plain old Anne-with-an-e Shirley, of Green Gables.

It had been so long since she'd visited her beloved Island; almost four years. While she'd adored her time teaching at an all-girls school in Kingsport, she'd felt as though a part of her were missing, as though there was something amiss that should have been there. And suddenly, as the all-too-familiar curves and lines of the Island sprung out from behind the rainy mist that blanketed the horizon, she felt the missing portion of the puzzle fly back into place. Her heart soared and her pace quickened with excitement, as the Island came more clearly into view with each glide of the ship.

A gentle gust of wind whipped through the air, ruffling Anne's hair; exhilarated, she pulled away the clasp and let her hair tumble to her shoulders; down her back. A few other passengers stared at her briefly, wondering why this well-dressed young woman was being so carefree; but she didn't care. She breathed in the cool salty air, and felt as though she might cry if she did not stop herself. Even the enormous black rolling rainclouds could not dampen her spirits on such a wonderful day; today, the impending rain seemed beautiful and refreshing – symbolic of the opening of another chapter in her life, symbolic of new life and new opportunities.

The dock was slippery as Anne stepped from the boat; rain had begun to fall with more fervour, tumbling in hazy torrents from the rumbling grey clouds overhead. Again, she was not bothered by the rain itself; however, she did open her parasol and held it gingerly above her head, certain that she didn't want to remember her first week in Green Gables as having a cold. She clutched her suitcase tightly in one hand, gazing around the dock. Men and women hurried about, holding pieces of newspaper, books or even pieces of discarded wood above their heads. Children shrieked in laughter as they tried to break free from their parents to dance in the rain. Bells sounded in the distance, signifying the arrival of another ship from the mainland. Sighing, Anne stood, gradually growing wetter and wetter under the rainfall.

And it was then that she spotted a figure in the distance, running closer; she didn't have to think for a moment to know who that figure was. With her long, thick glossy black hair gathered into a soft, loose bun, and that slightly awkward glide, she knew it was Diana Barry, _her _Diana, her best friend in the entire world. Anne let out a shriek of joy as she instinctively dropped her parasol and raced toward her friend, whose arms were outstretched.

"Oh, Diana!" Anne cried, throwing herself into her friend's arms. "How I've missed you!"

Diana squeezed her friend tight, refusing to let go. "_You _missed me?" she retorted, laughing. "You're the one who decided to leave us! You're been out having a wonderful time while us boring married spinsters have been stuck in Avonlea reading about your silly adventures!"

Anne couldn't contain her excitement. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" she said. "And I'm here to stay. Quebec was a wonderful city, but…there is absolutely nowhere in the world that I would rather be than Green Gables."

"That's good, then," said Diana, picking up Anne's suitcase, "because nobody (except Josie Pye, perhaps) intends to _let _you go anywhere now!" She stopped and stared at Anne. "You poor thing. You're soaked."

Anne shrugged. She was sure that her excitement would make her immune to any ailments that might be flying her way. "I don't mind. A little rain never hurt anybody." For a brief second, Anne thought she saw a look of sadness flash through Diana's eyes; but the expression was lost so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it.

Diana slung her free arm around Anne's waist, and they enjoyed an in-step walk rather like the day they'd taken the three-legged race together at Anne's first-ever church picnic. "We are going to have such a lovely time, Anne," she said.

They stopped in front of Diana and Fred's buggy, which was waiting for them just outside the entrance to the shipping docks. "M'lady," said Fred politely, lowering his cap at Anne as he helped her into the carriage.

"Kind sir," giggled Anne. She settled in to her seat and watched as Fred extended his hand toward his wife, who quickly rejected it.

"I can do this myself," said Diana haughtily, and clambered into the buggy of her own accord.

Anne looked from Fred to Diana and back again. "Is something going on that I should know about?" Fred pretended he hadn't heard her as he nudged the horse into movement and they set off down the lane toward Green Gables.

"He thinks I'm too delicate," whispered Diana, leaning in toward Anne so that her husband couldn't hear. "Thinks I can't do things on my own."

"Why on earth would he think that?" said Anne, too loudly.

"Maybe you should tell her, darling," Fred said from the driver's seat.

"Tell me what?" Anne looked at Diana, a million thoughts whirling around her mind. What if Diana and Fred were parting? Marriages didn't dissolve often, but she had heard of the idea of divorce…it happened…what if this was how they were headed? "Diana, tell me quickly, or I'll jump out of this buggy and get on the next ship back to Kingsport!"

Diana sighed. "Fred, we'll discuss this later." She turned to Anne. "I wanted to wait to tell you at a better time, when you were relaxed and settled in."

"Oh, just tell me now, please!"

"Fred and I are having another baby."


	2. A Startling Discovery

CHAPTER TWOp  
  
'Marilla,' Rachel Lynde insisted, sniffing disapprovingly, 'you do realise that these cakes are stale?'p  
  
Marilla glanced up from her cross-stitch pattern and looked at her friend, who was clutching a cloth bag full of small cakes by the corner, as though it were infected with an infectious disease. 'No, I didn't, Rachel,' she sighed, looking perplexed, 'otherwise I would have thrown them away.'p  
  
'Well, I think they're beginning to grow mould. I will have to feed them to the pigs. No need to throw them away; waste not, want not.' Rachel Lynde took pride in providing her friend and housemate with daily pearls of wisdom. However, Marilla had learned to ignore them.p  
  
'I think it's atrocious that nothing is re-used anymore,' Rachel went on, 'just think of all those children starving in the third-world countries. Mark my words, Marilla, one day all the Yankees and all the Canadians will wake up without food, and then we'll be sorry we ever wasted any.'p  
  
'Rachel, there's no need for melodrama. If a day like that comes, it will have happened as God's will with waste or without it.'p  
  
Rachel pursed her lips and harrumphed disapprovingly. 'Well, I still don't think we ought to speed up the inevitable. I'm rather happy living comfortably, eating every – oh my good Lord, Marilla!' Rachel cried, squinting out of the kitchen window. 'Marilla, it's Anne! Anne is home!'p  
  
Marilla looked up sharply. 'Rachel, don't get so excited! It can't be Anne; she still has another term left at Portland.' Rachel wasn't listening, though; she'd rushed past Marilla, flinging open the back door, and clattering out onto the patio, her footsteps rattling the floorboards.p  
  
'Rachel, will you calm down!' Marilla shouted, exasperated, just as a figure came into view – Marilla's mouth dropped open as she rushed over. Anne, wild and excited, her hair a russet-toned mess, threw herself into Marilla's open arms.p  
  
'Oh, Marilla!' Anne cried, her tears dampening Marilla's shoulder.p  
  
'Anne, my Anne-girl,' Marilla murmured, stroking her hair. 'You mustn't leave us like that again, you hear me? We've missed you too much!'p  
  
'Don't worry, I won't,' Anne said firmly, pulling away from Marilla, and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She grinned in embarrassment. 'I loved teaching, I love the students – but I love Avonlea, and Green Gables, so much more. I learned that I can't stay away for very long now. Never. I might want to explore the world, and to visit exciting places – but nothing makes me happier than the sight of lovely old Avonlea, and all my old haunts.'p  
  
'Come inside, Anne,' Marilla said, 'you've been soaked. I'll put the kettle on, and set the fire going, so you can warm up, with a dry set of clothes…Diana and Fred, you must join us for a cup of tea…and some stale cakes,' she couldn't resist adding, as an afterthought. Rachel coughed.p  
  
Though they looked a little apprehensive, Diana and Fred obliged and joined Marilla, Anne and Rachel as they entered Green Gables again – the three of them together at last.p  
  
'Now, Anne,' Marilla said, as they all sat by the fire an hour later, after Anne had washed and dried her hair, and changed into dry clothes, warmed by the fireplace. 'Tell me all about Portland.'p  
  
'There isn't a great deal to tell you – I spent the last few days packing and saying my goodbyes – before that, I'd sent you my last letter. I decided not to tell you about my coming back – I wanted to surprise you all.' She paused, and grinned at Diana. 'Except for Diana, who helped me get here.'p  
  
'Anne,' Rachel remarked, grinning broadly, cheeks glowing, 'you look real beautiful with your hair down like that. My, my, if only Gilbert were here to see it…'p  
  
Horrified, Marilla nudged Rachel sharply with her foot. Marilla, Diana and Fred were all aghast – Rachel was strictly forbidden to make any comment regarding Gilbert Blythe, unless the situation absolutely called for it. None of them wanted Anne to know. They knew how happy she was, having returned to the Island – they didn't want to dampen her spirits or give her any cause for worry, or at least not until she had settled in properly. But Rachel – vociferous, clumsy Rachel – had let slip a fact that should not have been revealed.p  
  
But Anne didn't seem to have noticed. She laughed, replying, 'Well, I'm sure he will. I'll be going around to the Blythe house to visit him today; imagine his face when he opens the door and sees me standing there! What a shock it will be!'p  
  
Diana eyed Marilla, and nodded slightly. Now was that moment, that most unfortunate moment, which warranted the despicable truth. Marilla sighed deeply and took her time responding, carefully selecting the most appropriate words, and discarding those that would cause more pain.p  
  
'Anne,' she said gently, 'I'm afraid Gilbert was taken ill this autumn. He contracted scarlet fever from one of his patients, you see. He seemed to be recovering, but only two weeks ago he took a bad turn…' Marilla's heart was breaking, even now, at the sight of Anne's face. 'The doctors aren't hoping out much hope for him. He's been in a coma ever since he took the turn.'p  
  
'No,' Anne said quietly. 'No. No, No. It's not true, Marilla; it's not true.'p  
  
Rachel chose that moment to intervene. 'I'm afraid it is, Anne. We would not lie about something so serious.'p  
  
Anne looked to Diana, pleadingly, as though willingly her to tell her it was all just a terrible joke, a terrible hoax, a terrible dream. But, sadly, Diana shook her head, as did Fred.p  
  
'Don't fret so, Anne,' Diana said. 'I doubt it's as bad as the doctors say; they tend to dramatise everything. Remember that Gil has the Blythe constitution in his favour; he'll be all right. You'll see.'p  
  
Anne felt numb. Only a few moments ago she had felt happy; carefree, at peace with everybody and everything in the world. Suddenly, she felt shattered; she felt torn apart, as though she could never be happy again. The knowledge that Gilbert – her beloved friend – was an inch from death seemed to rip apart her insides, churning her stomach, searing her mind. She paled, stood and bolted to her room. When she reached it, she stared around in misery. No longer was it welcoming or homely. It suddenly seemed stark and ominous. Miserable, she threw herself, face-down, onto the bed, and sobbed and sobbed until she felt as though there were no tears left to cry. 


	3. Reminiscence

CHAPTER THREE   
  
When Anne awoke the following morning, the sky was still grey and dismal; she felt hungry, and raw inside. Pulling herself from the bed, she smoothed out her skirt and slowly made her way downstairs. She could hear voices below her; pricking her ears, she recognised Fred and Diana.  
  
'Good morning, Anne,' Marilla greeted her, as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs; Rachel Lynde sidled over and planted a kiss on her cheek. Fred lifted his cap again, and Diana rushed over and gave her a hug, despite her still-swollen belly.  
  
'How are you, Anne?' Diana said, in her familiar, caring way. 'Did you sleep well?'  
  
'Yes,' Anne found herself replying, and it was the truth. She'd slept a dreamless sleep; perhaps her crying had exhausted her to such a degree that it had depleted any imagination, a notion with which she was not familiar. 'Marilla, I'm going to go for a walk around the orchard. I'll be back soon.'  
  
'Would you like me to come with you?' Diana asked, and Anne nodded. The two women made their way out to the back garden, where the sweet scents of the flowers and the distant rain formed an invigorating perfume.  
  
'Willows whiten, aspens quiver,' Anne recited dreamily, 'little breezes dusk and shiver, through the wave that runs forever, by the island in the river…'  
  
'Flowing down to Camelot,' Diana finished.  
  
'There she weaves, by night and day; a magic web, her colours gay. She has heard a whisper say – a curse is on her if she stays – to look down on Camelot.'  
  
'She knows not what the curse may be – and so she weaveth steadily…and little other care hath she…'  
  
'The Lady of Shalott.' It was now Anne's turn to finish, and she shuddered as a shiver crept along her spine. 'Don't you just yearn for those old days…I do, so very often.'  
  
'But Anne, you always looked forward to the future.'  
  
Anne's murmured her response. 'This is the first time in my life since Matthew died, that I haven't been able to imagine myself out of a situation.' A lone tear trickled down her cheek. A roll of thunder rumbled in the distance.  
  
Diana slipped an arm around her friend's shoulders. 'God will look after him, Anne. He wouldn't let Gil die, I know He wouldn't.' She glanced out over the orchard, squinting through the mist. 'Fred is going to the Blythe house later on, to see how he is.'  
  
'He must take me with him, Diana! I have to see Gil!'  
  
'But it's dangerous. You've never had scarlet fever before. If something happens to you, then life in Avonlea will be dreadful everyday for the rest of my life.'  
  
Anne sighed. 'You're right,' she said, 'but tell Fred to please let me know the minute he hears anything…and to fetch me at once if Gilbert is awake.'  
  
'I will,' Diana said. 'In the meantime, though, you must promise me not to dwell on all this. Pray and hope, but don't be disheartened, for only good can come through optimism.'  
  
'You sound like Rachel Lynde,' Anne said, cheekily.  
  
'I'd certainly hope not,' Diana said, a little huffily. 'She's a nice woman, but goodness, she is irritating. There would be not much hope left for me if I turned out like her.'  
  
'Anne! Diana!' Rachel Lynde called, at that moment; and both Anne and Diana laughed, at the coincidence of it.  
  
'Yes, Rachel?' Anne called back, trying desperately to keep a straight face.  
  
'I have some wonderful news; you must come inside now!'  
  
Anne and Diana trudged back, through the orchard and back to the house. Rachel was sitting at the kitchen table, with Marilla opposite; a letter was open in front of Rachel, and she was reading and re-reading it.  
  
'Oh, girls, can you believe it?' she asked. 'My grandson is coming to stay in Avonlea! He's arriving on the Carmody train in two days; isn't it wonderful? I must ask Fred to go and fetch him for me; he'll have to stay at Green Gables. Oh, isn't it exciting!'  
  
'Which grandson, Rachel?'  
  
'Adam, the middle grandson. He's been working in Toronto for the past ten years. He's a doctor, you know. He says he has not spent enough time with family; he says he will be taking several months away from work, and hopes I'll be willing to put him up. Oh, I can't believe it!'  
  
Anne grinned, and hugged her. 'It's wonderful, Rachel; I'm happy for you.'  
  
'Anne,' Marilla said, 'I think I will put him up in Matthew's old bedroom. Does it bother you to be so close to him?'  
  
'Not at all,' she said. 'I only hope he is comfortable and happy here. He and Fred would make great friends, I think.'  
  
'But you've never met him, Anne,' Diana teased.  
  
'I don't need to. He must be a kindred spirit.' 


	4. Receiving Word

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
Fred wrung his hands as he sat in his buggy, beside Barry's pond. Gazing over the still waters, he wondered what he would say. He knew that Anne would accept nothing but the truth; yet when the truth was so unbearable, how could he speak of it?  
  
He lit one of his few cigars and inhaled deeply, the fumes steadying his nerves. It was almost one o'clock; by now, Diana would have told Anne about his mission; and by now, Anne would surely be expecting an answer, a visit, a response. She would be fretting. He did not know her very well; yet he knew her well enough to know that she would not be sitting calmly, awaiting his return. He sighed, discarded his cigar, and set the buggy into motion, riding over to Green Gables, next door.  
  
Patting the horses gently as he dismounted, he took a deep breath and surveyed the house before him. He could see Marilla, cross-stitching, yet again; Rachel Lynde, washing the dishes; and Anne and Diana, sitting at the table, busily chattering and giggling. Taken aback, Fred inched closer to the house. Why was she so happy? Not that it bothered him, in the slightest; but it was not what he had expected. He had expected tears, shaking, desolation. But Anne was lively and happy; her smile lit up her face, and accentuated her creamy, English rose complexion. For a moment, Fred could see exactly what Gilbert saw in her, and he chuckled to himself at the prospect. 'Oh, Anne,' Fred thought wearily, 'don't you see it?'   
  
Clearly not, Fred realised as he opened the back door and was greeted by the four women. Why else would she have declined his fervent proposal, four years earlier; why else would she have been on the verge of engagement to a rich Quebec businessman; why else would she have discarded Gilbert for a more exciting and prosperous life; why else would she have left without saying goodbye?  
  
Anne looked up from the table, and the wide smile that covered her face slowly disappeared. 'Fred?'  
  
Fred took off his cap and shook his head. 'No news. He's still in his coma; Mr Blythe says that the doctors don't know how long it will be. It could be a week; it could be six months. They just don't know.'  
  
Anne paled, and a strange sensation clutched her stomach. He can't die, she whispered hoarsely within the confines of her own head, he just can't. Anne, known around Avonlea as a beacon of optimism, was surprised at her negativity, yet could think of no other thought. If he were to die…She could not complete the thought. The notion was too unbearable to even contemplate.  
  
'Plenty of people 'round these parts are praying mighty hard for that boy, I can safely say,' Rachel Lynde piped up from the sink in the kitchen, where she was still rinsing the dishes. Her voice was rather bright and cheerful, a little inappropriate for the situation; but Anne excused her on account of knowing that Rachel thrived in dramatic circumstances. 'Why, Mrs Abbott has begun a prayer-group with her friends, and the minister is having all the Sunday school children pray twice a day, and 'specially hard on Sundays. Mark my words, Anne, that boy'll scrape through with a good ten dozen prayers a day and a good, kind heart.'  
  
Anne wasn't entirely sure whether to feel reassured or even worse than she had to begin with; however, she thanked Rachel, and Fred, too, for his efforts.  
  
'Please let me know when you hear anything,' Anne said, 'anything at all, day or night. I must know, the moment he is better.'  
  
'I will,' Fred said. 'I'll check up with Mr Blythe again in a few days.'  
  
Anne eyed Diana sadly. 'Diana…what if he doesn't make it?'  
  
'I won't allow you to even think of that,' Diana said firmly. 'Now, I want you to get out Tennyson and recite so much poetry that you won't have room left to think of Gilbert.'  
  
And so that's what Anne did; she spent the rest of the afternoon poring over her fifty or so Alfred Lord Tennyson poems, reading them aloud to her audience in all the right personas and voices – and by the time she was finished, it was true – she had managed to momentarily forget about Gilbert. 


	5. A New Arrival

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
The three occupants of Green Gables were kept busy over the following two days, along with Diana and Fred; together, they washed, dried, cooked, cleaned, scrubbed, polished, ironed and swept, until the house was spotless and the smells rich and tantalising.  
  
'I have a right mind just to sit down and eat all of that cake to myself,' Diana said yearningly, as she fell into a chair at the table after a good three hours' work. 'It looks so delicious, Rachel. How ever do you manage it?'  
  
'The Lynde way,' Rachel said, and so earnestly, that Anne and Diana giggled. Rachel looked confused; Marilla just sighed and adjusted the vase of flowers set in the centre of the table. 'Oh, my poor stomach is tied into knots! I hope his all right; I do fret for him so much, he's such an impressionable young man, always dashing after the girls…'  
  
Diana and Anne giggled girlishly, and Fred looked rather taken aback. 'Ahem?'  
  
'It's just amusing, Fred,' Diana said. 'No need for you to worry.' She clasped his hand in hers for a moment and then let go, flashing him an intimate smile.  
  
'I wonder when he will get here, though?' Marilla mused aloud. 'I hope we can trust Mr Barry with such precious cargo.'  
  
Fred was originally intended to ride his buggy to Carmody and collect Adam, but he had not been feeling well the day before, and so Rachel Lynde had begged Diana's father to perform the favour instead. Obligingly, he agreed. He held the Cuthberts, Shirleys, Wrights, Blythes and Lyndes in the highest esteem, and would spare no effort in pleasing them.  
  
'We must take him to visit our haunts, Diana,' Anne said, 'and you, too, Fred. He will love Avonlea; he'll never want to return to Toronto. Oh, I can hardly wait. I adore making new friends; especially a friend who is the grandson of such a kindred spirit.' Rachel Lynde flushed visibly, but looked quite pleased at this compliment. Marilla was somewhat quiet; she had been feeling rather tired and a little worn out lately. The excitement of Anne's return, the stress of worrying about Gil's condition, and the pressure of obligatory hospitality toward Rachel's grandson was exhausting her. She needed a good, long rest. Not one to stop working for the sake of rest, it indicated her tiredness that she acknowledged her need for respite and relaxation.  
  
A loud rapping at the door broke the silence; Rachel jumped and squealed, in a manner quite out of character; Marilla sighed and stood, and Anne and Diana both jumped up and clattered to the door, faces flushed with excitement and over-exertion.  
  
Anne pulled the door open, and was faced by a tall young man, dressed impeccably in a soft grey suit and cap. He had deep, rich brown eyes with flecks of green and light in them; they seemed full of depth and passion; Anne immediately knew he was a kindred spirit, just by looking into his eyes. His jaw was rather square, and angular; he was stocky, but not excessively so…he looked as though he had done a good deal of work in his lifetime, and had developed a strong, muscular physique as a result. He stood prominently, with confidence and ease, yet with courtesy and gentleness.  
  
'Why, hello, Adam,' Anne said, extending her hand with a smile. 'I'm Anne Shirley. Welcome to Green Gables.'  
  
Adam Lynde was rather taken aback at such a rapid, straightforward introduction. Of course, he rather appreciated the gesture when women took the initiative to introduce themselves…but in this case, the fact that she knew his name unsettled him slightly. However, he returned her handshake warmly and nodded, replying, 'Hello, Anne. It's lovely to meet you, and to be here.'  
  
Anne turned, grinning, to Diana. 'And this is my most cherished friend, Diana Wright. Fred, over there, is her lovely husband.' Fred lowered his cap. 'Good day.'  
  
Diana nodded and shook his hand when it was extended.  
  
Adam was led inside, and, as had been predicted, Rachel threw her arms around his neck and sobbed tears of joy all over his shoulder. 'Oh, my dear, darling boy,' she wailed. 'I haven't seen you for so long, since your grandfather died….' Another choking sob issued from somewhere deep inside her throat; Adam looked flushed and slightly bemused. He awkwardly patted his grandmother on the back.  
  
'Come and sit down, Adam,' Marilla said gently. 'Make yourself comfortable; this is your home too, now. Would you like some tea, or something to eat? Rachel has been cooking incessantly; it would be a shame to see it wasted.'  
  
'Thankyou, that would be lovely,' Adam said, sliding into a seat at the table. All this excitement was rather exhausting, he thought to himself. 'Tea would be wonderful, and perhaps a small cake too.'  
  
'I've made some plum preserves and sponge cake; I'll collect it from the pantry. Excuse me, everybody.'  
  
Adam did not pay any attention to the elderly woman; for he was too intent on gazing at the lovely, pale-skinned creature before him. Anne. The word, the name, sounded so lovely, so elegant, so heavenly inside his mind. He played it silently on his lips. Anne Shirley. He felt a queer sensation form in his stomach. Gazing at her lovely grey-green eyes; her rich, russet hair that fell gracefully over her shoulders and gently caressed her pale, creamy neck; and her joyous, angelic smile that lit up a thousand beauties on her face, he realised for the first time what it felt to be in love.  
  
'Adam,' Anne said, and he quickly diverted his gaze. 'Did you have a good journey over to the Island?'  
  
'Uh – yes,' he stammered, trying to place his thoughts and correspond them with his speech. 'It was lovely, thankyou, Anne.' The thought of saying her lovely name aloud was so irresistible that he could not avoid it. 'The scenery is excellent.'  
  
'That's wonderful,' Anne said. 'Our Island is perfect.'  
  
You don't have to tell me that, Anne, oh lovely Anne, Adam sang inside his mind, your Island is perfect, because you are on it; I shall never, ever leave now. I will make you mine, I must, I must. Anne, I think I am in love with you, and I have only known you five minutes. Whatever shall I do? 


	6. Gilbert Gets The Turn

CHAPTER SIX  
  
Gilbert stirred uncomfortably; sweat trickled down his pale, clammy face, yet he was cold, so cold. With a groan of pain, his eyes flickered open. Spots of faint colour trickled before his eyes. The room was darkened, yet a stream of dim light poured in through the window opposite his bed.  
  
He eased himself gently up from his lying position; he cried out in pain as his head collided with the headboard. At once, thoughts of Anne rushed into his mind. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she back in Avonlea? He panicked. He felt his entire body contract uncomfortably, as a knot developed excruciatingly in his stomach. The yearning and the desire to see Anne, to touch her skin, to hear her voice once more, was almost unbearable. She had been gone far too long, and their parting had been truly unfortunate. Anne, please come back! I need you. I will make you happy. Give me another chance to prove myself!  
  
'Gilbert, are you awake?' His father's voice issued from outside his door.  
  
'Yes, Dad,' he called weakly. His father entered, concern and relief etched upon his face.  
  
'Gil,' he said, 'Gil, I've been so worried…how are you feeling?' His instinct was to hug his son, for words could not explain how concerned he had been for his welfare. However, Mr Blythe, a man not comfortable with emotion, nor with expressing himself physically, found it awkward and so dismissed the idea; instead, he stood, awkwardly, at the door.  
  
'All right,' Gilbert said, 'Dad, have you seen Anne? Is she here? On the Island?'  
  
Mr Blythe shook his head. 'No, I don't believe she is,' he confessed, gently. 'Fred was around a few days ago, but he didn't say anything to me about Anne. I'm sure he would have, had she been back.'  
  
Gilbert's heart sank, and his head span from the disappointment. For a split second, for a brief moment, he had held hope in his mind that his illness might be rectified. If Anne were there, then it would all be worth it. He would be able to say all the things he thought and felt without hesitation. Being in a coma and having been so close to death had taught him one vital lesson: to treat life as something precious. He could not rely on tomorrow, for tomorrow is always a possibility and never a guarantee. From now on, he vowed, I will tell everybody how I feel as soon as the moment is available.  
  
'Get some rest, Gil,' Mr Blythe said, venturing over to his bed and placing his hand on his son's forehead. 'You've had a rough month and a rough night.'  
  
'Goodnight, Dad,' he said, but knew that he would get no rest now that he knew that Anne had not returned to the Island. 


	7. A Stab from Behind

CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Rachel Lynde was becoming a nuisance, at least to Adam Lynde's thoughts and desire for peace and elongated moments in which to daydream about Anne. The noisy chatter around him caused him to grow heady; his head throbbed and he began to sweat from such close proximity with so many people, who were all so fiercely fending for his attention (or at least Rachel Lynde, who could be considered the equivalent of eight different people in her excitable enthusiasm).  
  
'Excuse me,' he said, 'I think I'll go for a walk around Avonlea…enjoy the sights, meet a few locals…'  
  
'Would you like somebody to go with you?' Rachel fretted. 'I'd hate to see you lost. Avonlea is a rather large town, when one thinks about it long enough.'  
  
Marilla exchanged a look with Rachel. 'Rachel, Adam is a grown man; he doesn't need your clucking.' To Adam, she said, 'Go, Adam, and get some fresh air. Enjoy yourself, but please be back by dinnertime. I'm serving a roast meal, and I'd hate for you to miss out.'  
  
'Absolutely,' Adam replied; 'I wouldn't miss my first home-cooked meal here for the world.'  
  
Marilla smiled. 'Run along, then. And Rachel, don't look so gloomy. He isn't running away from you.'  
  
The Avonlea air was fresh, crisp and cool that afternoon, Adam noted as he strode purposefully through the winding dirt roads and past throngs of perfumed throngs of flowers and orchards. It was all so scenic, so beautiful; no wonder Grandmother said she'd never ever leave…I wouldn't want to leave, either…though I do have an alternate motivation, he considered again.  
  
The main street of Avonlea was quiet that afternoon; it seemed everybody was enjoying the pleasures of their own homes and gardens. Thoughts of Anne continued ringing through his mind; like a melody in his mind, a joyous song that never ended. He wanted nothing more than to have his love returned, to hold this girl in his arms, to marry her. He'd never felt feelings so strong for a woman before, and not one he'd only known for little more than an hour!  
  
A memory suddenly returned to him; being in Nova Scotia on a medical conference a few years earlier. He'd met a young man named Gilbert Blythe, rather handsome and congenial. They'd quickly become good friends. If Adam was not mistaken, Gilbert had said he lived in Avonlea. He'd have been Anne's age; they must know each other! Adam and Gilbert had lost touch since that conference, but the memory let forth a new surge of hope and love for Anne. He resolved to go, immediately, to visit Gilbert and ask him for his advice. Gilbert was a sensible lad, and being an Island boy through and through, he would know what to do.  
  
Adam stopped at a small baker's shop and stepped up to the counter, running his fingers through his silken hair. He glanced around the shop; it was so quaint, so homely and smelled so wonderful!  
  
'Excuse me,' he said to the salesperson as they emerged from the back room. 'Would you happen to know where a Mr Gilbert Blythe lives?'  
  
'Why, continue to the end of this road and turn to the right, and then the left. His is a large white farmhouse with green trimmings; you can't miss it, it's got a horse and buggy in the garden, and it is rather large.'  
  
Adam thanked the woman, and as a return for her assistance, purchased five loaves of fresh bread before departing and following her directions, almost skipping along the roads leading to the Blythe farmhouse. The world seemed so much more refreshing, so much more welcoming; the scents were fragrant and the world sweet. He was sipping from an overflowing cup of pure joy and elation.  
  
He knocked on the door of the house he presumed to be Gilbert's. He stood and jiggled his legs impatiently, waiting for an answer. Finally, a tall, lean man with greying hair answered. Adam's heart fell.  
  
'Good afternoon, sir,' Adam said, 'would you happen to know where Gilbert Blythe lives? I'm an old friend from Nova Scotia.'  
  
'I'm his father,' the man said, 'Mr Blythe. Hello. My son's just woken up from a coma, so he'll be looking for visitors. Come in.'  
  
The room was dimly lit with candlelight, and just a faint stream of daylight from the windows. Adam quietly entered, and pulled off his cap as a sign of respect.  
  
'Gilbert, my old friend,' he said cheerfully. 'Hello.'  
  
Gilbert was taken aback at this sudden and unexpected arrival. Why would Adam Lynde come and visit him all the way from Toronto? The idea was almost laughable, yet it seemed to be the only explanation. It was rather amusing, in fact, to picture him suddenly halting all his plans, all his work commitments, and taking a ship over the Island, at the news that Gilbert Blythe had been taken ill with scarlet fever.  
  
'Why, hello, Adam,' Gilbert said. 'What brings you here?'  
  
'I'm staying with my grandmother and Marilla over at Green Gables for several months, during my break…I needed a change of climate, a change of atmosphere, and wanted to see new places.' Adam added, as an afterthought, 'I heard you were ill, and I thought I'd come and visit…to see how you were…' He knew it was an embellishment of the truth, but he thought that he could be forgiven just this once. 'Are you feeling any better?'  
  
'I feel a little weak, thanks,' Gilbert replied hoarsely, 'but I assume I'll pull through in a few days.'  
  
'That's good. Scarlet fever is a nasty experience, I assure you. I had it when I was seven – it nearly killed me, mind you.' He laughed, rather boyishly.  
  
'So,' Gilbert said, 'have you made any new lady friends, since Agnes?'  
  
Adam considered his question carefully. 'Hmmm,' he said. 'Now, I don't even know if I remember Agnes,' he admitted. 'But I courted Josephine for awhile, and Patricia, and another girl, whose name I don't remember…oh yes – Jennifer and May…I think there may have been another one, but I am not sure.' He laughed dryly. 'There have been so many since you last saw me. I was even engaged to Helen Bowing, for several months, but she ran off with another beau.'  
  
'How terrible for you,' Gilbert said.  
  
'No,' Adam laughed, 'quite the contrary. She was terribly horse-like, and not at all attractive. I remember my mother cajoling me into the engagement. I was never interested. And she was a child.'  
  
'How old?'  
  
'Eighteen,' Adam said, 'when I was twenty.'  
  
'That's not terribly young.'  
  
'No,' Adam admitted, 'but she seemed it. She had a terrible tinkling laugh, you see, and she cried a lot.'  
  
Gilbert was rather annoyed with Adam's attitude. He dismissed these women with no more than a passing shrug. He treated them like objects, like pebbles on a shoreline or stamps in a stamp album! It was disgraceful, he thought. Adam has changed, he realised. He is no longer so friendly. In fact, he is downright arrogant and quite slimy.  
  
'But now I am interested in somebody new, Gilbert. In fact, perhaps you could advise me about it. I met a girl today. She lives at Green Gables, with Miss Cuthbert and my grandmother. Her name is Anne Shirley. Do you know her?'  
  
Gilbert's stomach turned, and he felt his face drain of any little colour that was left. Anne was here? Here in Avonlea? And she had not visited? How could that be? Don't be daft, Gilbert, he thought, why would she come and see you? You fought with her the day she left. She said she never wanted to speak to you again. He rebuffed this thought by considering the fact that they had called a truce during their mail correspondence; but perhaps she was still bitter. Oh, why hadn't she visited? Now Gilbert felt physically ill. He swallowed audibly, feeling tears choking at his throat, though he used every ounce of energy left in his body to hold them down  
  
'Gilbert?'  
  
'Oh,' Gilbert said. 'Yes. I do.'  
  
Adam grinned. 'That's wonderful!' he said. 'I'm in love with Anne,' Adam said. 'Oh, goodness, I love her. She's so beautiful – she has the sweetest personality, and such a fiery one at that. I looked at her once, and I've only spent one afternoon with her, and I already adore her. I'm sure Miss Cuthbert would disapprove, though. She's such a formidable woman. And I think Anne may love me too, though I don't know. She looked at me so much today, Gilbert, and she blushed when I spoke to her directly. Oh, I don't know what to do!'  
  
No! He cried in his head. No! She can't do this to me! A thousand screaming voices tore through his mind. Anne is mine! I love her! I love her more than anything in this world. I am the only one supposed to be with her. At that moment, for a split second, he wanted to die. And then he felt a surge of anger and murderous feelings toward Adam. If he could not have her, then nobody else could.  
  
'What ought I do, Gilbert? How should I win her? Should I tell her?'  
  
Gilbert's initial reaction was to give him the opposite advice to what he should. However, he realised that Anne did not care for him any way, and so it made little difference whether he advised him ill or not. He sighed. And if Adam was direct with his feelings – perhaps, if Anne did not care for him in that way, she would nip any attempts of his sentimentality in the bud. With this hope in mind, he offered the advice that could either save or devastate Gilbert.  
  
'Tell her how you feel,' he said, wishing he could be anywhere but there at that moment, 'It's the only way. Say exactly what you feel.'  
  
'All right, Gilbert! Thank you very much!' Adam said, jumping up. 'I will go now, and do just that. I shall come and pay you a visit soon, I promise. Get better soon, won't you, dear friend. Goodbye.'  
  
After Adam left, Gilbert let an obligatory tear slip down his cheek. Soon after, Mr Blythe entered the room. Before he could say anything, Gilbert spoke.  
  
'Father,' he said, 'I'm going to England.'  
  
Mr Blythe was clearly taken aback. 'What? Gilbert? Why?'  
  
'Anne is in Avonlea,' he said.  
  
Confused, his father said, 'But wouldn't you want to stay?'  
  
'She has not come to see me,' he said. 'And she must have known about me. She does not care for me, father. She is too busy falling in love with dreadful, grovelling bores from Toronto.'  
  
'But you can't -'  
  
'I can and I will. I can't stay here, knowing she is in this town and I cannot have her. It would be a worse torture that the irons, Dad. I can't stay.'  
  
Mr Blythe paled. 'If you say so, son,' he said, dumbfounded.  
  
'But you must promise me, Dad,' Gilbert said, 'you must tell nobody where I have gone. You do not know at all. I don't want people trying to contact me. I need to begin a new life, with new people.'  
  
'If you say so, Gil,' Mr Blythe said. 'I hope you know what you're doing.'  
  
'I do,' Gilbert said, but inside, he was thinking, 'So do I, Dad. So do I.' 


	8. Wanderings in the Orchard

CHAPTER EIGHT   
  
Anne met Diana at the White Way of Delight on a sun-filled afternoon the following week. The afternoon sun was gentle and the soft, pearl-dappled clouds in the crisp blue sky were plentiful. They met by no way of planning; it was merely a meeting of coincidence. Little Fred and Anne Cordelia were in the care of their father that afternoon, and so Diana had decided to take a leisurely stroll through Avonlea, and memories had eventually drawn her to one of her and Anne's favourite childhood haunts.  
  
The pair continued along the road; Anne, remembering her first encounter with the beautiful avenue almost ten years before; Diana, content with her life at that moment, didn't say really anything at all, and took great interest in watching her friend no doubt invent imaginative tales of tragedy and romance as she walked along.  
  
Diana eventually broke the silence. 'So what do you think of Adam, Anne?' she asked. 'I overheard Josie Pye saying that he is a devastatingly handsome fellow. Do you agree?'  
  
Anne laughed. 'I wouldn't quite say that. No, just very handsome, I think I would leave the praise at that.'   
  
'So there are no dreams of romance, then?' Diana inquired in a teasing nature.  
  
'Diana Barry, I have a good mind to leave you right here and keep on walking,' Anne laughed.  
  
Diana shook her head, smiling girlishly. 'I just wondered…he seems to like you. And,' she added, 'considering you haven't had any romance in your life since turning down Damon.'  
  
Anne raised her eyebrows. 'Well, let's not get onto that topic,' she said, continuing. 'I don't even want to begin thinking about marriage proposals again; they seem to be the burden of my life.'  
  
Diana clutched her friend's arm and stared ahead, deep in thought. 'I don't know,' she said. 'I think most girls would die of happiness if as many men who have asked to marry you asked them, especially if it was Gilbert; he's so handsome, Anne. I even fancied him when I was girl. You don't seem satisfied at all.'  
  
Anne stopped. 'I'm not,' she said. 'I'm waiting for the right person.' She looked dreamy for a few moments. 'I'm waiting for my ideal to step right into my life, as though he came straight from a fairy tale.'  
  
Diana answered, 'Well, you can forget that idea, then. Nothing in life, especially in romance, seems to turn out exactly as you want it. Married life has taught me not to be as whimsical and dreamy as you are.'  
  
'Oh, I don't know about that,' Anne replied, smiling, 'you're still as dreamy as I. And I can't quash it out of me any more than I can cut off my leg and continue on every day as I used to.' She plucked a fragrant blossom from an orchard and twined it around her fingertips. 'Let's face it, I'm a hopeless romantic.'  
  
'Oh, really?' Diana asked. 'Nobody would have ever guessed.'  
  
At that moment, Fred came running through the trees into the orchard. Taken aback, Anne squealed, and Diana jumped as a direct result of Diana's fright.  
  
'How did you find us, darling?' Diana asked, clutching her husband's calloused hands with her own. 'You must have searched through every tree in this blessed lane.'  
  
Fred looked tired, bedraggled, and concerned. He had leaves caught in his curly hair, smudges of dirt across his face, and dusty ankles. 'I looked for a while,' he muttered, preoccupied. 'Listen, Anne, Diana,' he said, taking a deep breath. 'I was just at the Blythes. I wanted to see how Gil was, and if he was better, surprise you.' He looked directly at Anne as he said this. 'And…well…er…'  
  
Anne's stomach clenched. 'Fred, no! Gilbert's all right, isn't he? He must be all right!'  
  
Fred suddenly found his own capacity to speak his news. 'Gilbert's gone,' he said simply.  
  
Anne was confused. 'Gone?'  
  
Fred, noting the terrified look on Anne's face, smiled weakly and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'Not in the…deceased sense,' he continued. 'But he's gone. Missing. He has been, for a week now, or so his father tells me. Mr Blythe assured me he has no idea where Gilbert has gone.'  
  
Anne fell to the dusty ground with a thump. She paled. 'G-Gil's…gone?' she asked disbelievingly. 'He can't – he can't be.' She couldn't bring herself to believe it. The news was just too bizarre to even contemplate.  
  
Fred gripped Anne's wrists and helped pull her up. 'Listen, perhaps you'd better go home now, Anne. You don't look so well. I'll drive you home.' He gestured for Diana to follow Anne into the buggy.   
  
Anne seated herself, in a stunned world of disorientation so great that she didn't even resist Fred's instructions, as she would have under normal circumstances. 'I don't feel so well,' she spoke in a disjointed voice. Fred began to head the buggy through to Green Gables. When they arrived, he helped the two out and walked them towards the porch door.  
  
Diana looked at her friend in concern. 'Will you be all right, Anne?'   
  
'I suppose I'll have to be,' Anne said numbly. She pulled open the door and stumbled inside, her cheeks still no less pale than before.  
  
Rachel was sitting at the table with Adam. Marilla was nowhere in sight, though Anne assumed she may be upstairs.  
  
'What's the matter, Anne?' Rachel Lynde asked. Even she worried for Anne after seeing the look on her face. The look on her face was so pained, so desperately aching with distress, that even the outspoken, brash Rachel Lynde could find no words to comfort her. Adam looked on, and his heart lurched. He wished he could gather Anne up in his arms and hold her and cry her troubles away alongside her. But he knew in his heart that it would take time for this to happen. After all, he had known her for such a little time. He had to be patient.  
  
Anne fell into a chair and began to weep. Rachel's hand moved out from around her teacup and grasped Anne's. 'Anne Shirley, what is it now?' she asked sympathetically, though with a familiar note of curiosity in her voice.  
  
Anne sniffed and wiped her cheek, tears mercilessly streaming down her face.  
  
'Gil's been missing for a week,' she cried. 'They don't know where he's gone.'  
  
Adam was shocked. They must be good friends! Perhaps even in love. Rage filled his mind. Of all his stupidity, charging headlong into such a mess with no thought as to the consequences of his actions. Anne and Gilbert must be in love, and he had stupidly gone and poured his heart out to a supposed friend. Well, that would be the last time he'd speak to Gilbert Blythe! Of all the indecent, low-life scoundrels, he was the worst!  
  
Rachel was shocked. However, it was obvious she was revelling in the potential of such a scandalous and conversation-inducing piece of Avonlea gossip. 'But – why – Anne!' she said. 'He can't be gone! It's plain absurd, that's what!'  
  
Anne's hand covered her mouth as more tears spilled desperately from her eyes. 'I don't know where he could have gone. And we're such good friends…I don't think I can bear the thought of not knowing where he is, or whether he is safe.'  
  
Adam exhaled, relieved that his assumptions had been inaccurate. He felt a pang of guilt at the recollection of his unjust thoughts of Gilbert Blythe. They were obviously only good friends; nothing more. Why else would Gilbert convince Adam to tell Anne how he felt? If they were, in fact, in love, he would not have done so. There's nothing to worry about, he realised, Gilbert Blythe is no threat. Of course, it's a shame he's disappeared so. But Adam felt sure he would turn up again, sooner or later. He must do; boys like Gilbert didn't just disappear and never come back.  
  
Marilla appeared at the door at that moment. She wanted to find out what had been causing such a heated commotion downstairs.  
  
'What on earth is everybody fussing about? Anne – what is it?'  
  
Anne flew into Marilla's arms. 'Oh, Marilla,' she sobbed. 'Gilbert has disappeared; he's been missing for a week now. Nobody knows where he has gone.'  
  
Marilla clutched Anne's shoulders, wishing she could take Anne's pain away for her. 'Oh, there, there,' she comforted her. 'He'll turn up, I'm sure he will.' Marilla held Anne in a tight hug for a few moments, rocking gently from side to side. 'There, there,' she soothed. 'It will turn out, somehow. God will look after him. God will bring him back.'  
  
'I think I need some air, Marilla,' Anne said suddenly, drawing away. She wiped her nose daintily with her fingers. 'Excuse me, Marilla. Rachel; Adam.'  
  
Anne stumbled out of the kitchen and into the orchard; though today, she found no peace there. Instead, she continued on until she reached the small footbridge that stretched along Barry's pond. She leant her head upon the railing and cried. She felt desperate and deserted. It was unbearable to know that Gilbert was ill, but at least she had the comforting knowledge that he was still here, in this world, somewhere.   
  
Now, she did not know where he was, or whether he had even recovered or not. Fresh tears prickled at her eyes as they fell in simultaneous droplets into the pond, ripples spreading in rings across the gentle bobbing of the waves. She sniffled piteously as she gazed at her reflection. She seemed so small and so vulnerable.  
  
She was not aware of another's presence until she noticed a reflection in the lake next to her own. Startled, she looked up. Her heart beat faster, blinking through her tears, wondering if it could possibly be Gilbert. However, as the blurring in her eyes subsided and her eyes once again retained their focus, she realised with a pang of disappointment that it was only Adam.  
  
'I didn't know if you would care to see anybody at the moment,' he said, gazing out onto the waters, gripping the rail, 'but I decided to take the risk. Are you all right?' He looked at Anne. Her cheeks were bright red, though tears still fell upon them. 'Not really,' she said. 'Gil and I have been good friends for so long.'  
  
'I knew him,' Adam commented, privately making the decision not to share with Anne his experience with Gilbert the previous week. 'When he studied at medical school in Toronto for a week or so, we become good friends. We never really stayed in contact, though.' He paused. 'Gilbert's a nice fellow. One of the nicest I know.'  
  
'Yes,' Anne said. 'I agree.'  
  
Adam turned to face Anne, his heart beating harder in his chest. 'You are so beautiful,' he said softly, the words tumbling forth before he could stop them. His fingers moved forward of their own accord and tenderly stroked her cheek, his fingertips gentle and soft as they lingered on her face. She closed her eyes, feeling both bewildered and thrilled. Here was handsome Adam Lynde thinking she was beautiful, when most other girls would be eaten alive with jealousy, simply to be in her place at that moment.   
  
'Do you ever think of me in the way that I think of you?' he whispered. His face was moving closer to hers. He did not know whether it was he who was doing so or whether a greater force was moving it for him. All he was aware of was how close he was standing to Anne, how her skin felt on his face, how her eyes looked in the dusky light of evening. With a sudden movement, his lips met her own. They were warm and smooth; tingles of happiness ran through his body like electricity. His lips moved to find hers; Anne was so surprised and so flattered that she did not pull away, though she felt sparks of an unfamiliar kind running across her own skin.   
  
Adam's arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and there they stood, bodies pressed against the other, arms wrapped tightly together, lips locked in a tender kiss. Anne did not pull away, but nor did she reciprocate the kiss. Adam wished the kiss would never end, in its sweetness. Anne was not unhappy, yet the moment seemed unfulfilled and unsatisfying in a way she did not understand.   
  
When she finally pulled away, cheeks still flushed and face still wet with tears, she was overcome by emotions so strongly and so incomprehensible, that she gathered her skirt and dashed away, back to the house, wordlessly.  
  
Adam, however, stood and watched her moving away and realised, with a pang of lovesickness, that Anne was the only one for him. 


	9. Marilla Scolds Rachel

CHAPTER NINE  
  
'Marilla, what do you think of Anne and Adam?' Rachel asked, just after Adam had followed Anne out to the pond. 'I think they would make a fine couple. Adam seems infatuated with our Anne. I smell trouble, and I don't mind saying so.'  
  
Marilla laid down her knitting needles. 'Rachel, Anne is just a girl,' she said. 'It doesn't do to meddle in other people's affairs. Don't put your oar in, this time.'  
  
Rachel looked startled. 'But I must know. I know you resist my meddling, Marilla, but those two would make a fine pair.'  
  
Marilla shook her head. 'Adam is not the right boy for Anne. There's only one right one for her, and she must figure out who he is for herself, without our interfering. I forbid you to, Rachel.'  
  
At that moment, Anne burst through the back door and went straight up to her room without a word. Marilla, sighing, could sense that something had happened, and felt had a sinking feeling that suggested it might have been something between Adam and Anne.  
  
Marilla raised her eyebrows, wondering if the romantic confusion that Providence was spreading upon Avonlea would ever subside. 


	10. Gilbert Reflects

CHAPTER TEN  
  
Gilbert breathed in the salty sea air. He had been sailing over the North Atlantic Ocean for almost a week now. He still felt a wrench of homesickness whenever he thought of Avonlea, or more particularly, the thought of Anne back home on Prince Edward Island.   
  
He forced (or at least tried to force) himself to forget about her – after all, it would do him no good to dwell on her potential relationship with Adam Lynde. All his brotherly feelings toward Adam had vanished; now all that was left was a deep, burning hatred for him, a dark pitance of pain, an intense loathing for the man who had stolen away the only person who made his life worth living.   
  
Gilbert waited in anticipation to arrive in Liverpool. Perhaps he would enjoy his stay there so much that he would stay in England for good. Perhaps he would even find the love of his life – the love of his life whose name wasn't Anne – and marry her. Thoughts suddenly cheered, he looked over the sea a second time in a feeling of greater optimism. He looked forward to the future now, and gradually, slowly but surely, he vowed that he would forget that a redheaded girl named Anne Shirley even existed. 


	11. John Blythe Reflects

CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
It had been three months since Gilbert left Avonlea, and still nobody except John Blythe knew where he had gone. Though a great disbeliever in lying, he felt it necessary in this exceptionally rare instance to do his son a favour and convince others that he knew not of his whereabouts. Each time he passed Anne in the street, he felt a sudden compulsion to beg her to write to Gilbert and sort out this mess before the whole thing was blown out of proportion. But the Blythe pride was certainly evident on these occasions; his courage failed him, and he continued on his way, though his heart would break, for he knew in his heart that Anne Shirley despaired for his son. 


	12. Adam Asks A Question

CHAPTER TWELVE  
  
It was widely known throughout the parts of Avonlea that Adam Lynde and Anne Shirley were quite a couple. Though Anne was besotted with Adam, she had given up hope long ago that she would ever hear from Gilbert again. Even though she had no hint as to his wellbeing, deep down she knew that he was still alive. She didn't suspect that she was the cause of his departure; nor that Mr Blythe secretly knew exactly where he was. Anne continued to live, day by day, in a misinformed world where she knew only half the story that haunted her in every waking moment.  
  
Adam felt he was the happiest man on earth, having won Anne's heart, finally. She was his now, and he treated her with the care of a man in possession of the greatest and most delicate, precious diamond in the world. He trod around her her on tiptoe, as though any sudden movements could shatter his bubble of happiness and contentment.  
  
One morning, deep in the heart of autumn, where the mahogany Avonlea oaks shed their leaves in a multitude of vibrant coloured blankets on the ground, Anne met with Adam beside The Lake of Shining Waters, where they had shared their first kiss three months earlier. Anne's richly tinted red hair was pulled loosely in a braid down her back, and flowing strands fluttered in the gentle breeze. Adam thought she had never looked so beautiful, and with his quest in mind, he felt a sudden flare of confidence as he gazed into her eyes, the eyes he found so wonderfully captivating.  
  
He grasped her hand as they watched the trees rustling restlessly in the breeze. He felt his arm move around Anne's shoulders, and her head rest on his shoulder. They both stood for a few moments. Adam was content enough in his love's presence not to speak. Anne was, too, satisfied.  
  
'Anne,' he said, 'I want to ask you something. I love you so much it hurts. I want to know…well...will you marry me?'  
  
Anne smiled, and though wondering if she was doing the right thing, she clutched his hand in hers. 'Yes,' she whispered, and drew him in for a kiss. 


	13. The News Is Broken

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  
  
Anne and Adam did not rush to share the news of their engagement with Rachel and Marilla; rather, they lingered at Barry's pond well and truly until dusk, talking and laughing together, Anne in glowing joy over her new ring, which she placed proudly on her ring finger.   
  
Finally, she thought with a sigh of satisfaction. I'm engaged, and getting married.   
  
Even the most romantic of hearts might fail to understand Anne's happiness; though she loved Adam dearly, she still felt nervous that she was binding herself to another person, a man, for the rest of her life - and at that, one whom she knew so little about. Her confusion was indescribable; however, one look into the eyes of Adam Lynde, and all of her doubts were washed away in a haze of infatuation.  
  
Green Gables was basked in a glow of evening light as they made their way to the porch, where Rachel and Marilla were seated, in a comfortable silence, enjoying the evening and fragrant blossom of autumn.  
  
Adam was clutching Anne's hand as though he would never let go. In his eyes, Anne was the most important thing to him in the world, and he did not dare let her go. He felt for her in a way he had never felt for another human being before. The feeling was so remarkable, in fact, that it almost scared him.   
  
Marilla had grown accustomed to their romance, however had never really fully approved of it. Oh, of course, she agreed like everybody else in Avonlea that Adam was charming, polite and enchantingly handsome. But the fact remained that Anne – her own Anne – was the girl, the object, of his affections. She didn't truly believe it was an appropriate pairing. She liked Adam, yet was uncomfortable with him. He was wonderful, yet she was cautious.   
  
On the other hand, Rachel was beside herself with pleasure over their union; she thought it high time that her little Adam found a lady, and the one perfectly suitable, she believed, was Anne.  
  
On this particular evening, Rachel glanced up from her lap and caught sight of the pair strolling blissfully together toward the house. She grinned a grin of supreme satisfaction, and yes, she admitted, smugness. 'You two take a long time,' she called to them. 'You're 'nature minglers', that's what!' She squinted, and saw that Adam was beaming radiantly.  
  
'Why, Anne,' Marilla said, more quietly and with a notable air of self-composure. 'You've been out awhile.'  
  
Anne laughed and sat down beside her. 'Yes,' she said. 'We were drinking in The Lake of Shining Waters. I could almost feel the magic swimming through the water and among the trees. It's such a delicious evening, isn't it, Marilla?'  
  
Marilla laughed in spite of herself. 'You certainly have a tongue of your own, my girl,' she spoke.  
  
Anne smiled.  
  
'So, what's new in Avonlea – surely you've picked up on some of the gossip on your way about? No doubt Tilly Boulter has had something to say about the George Hewitt scandal.' Marilla pulled another thread through her cross-stitch pattern, sighed, and turned it over to secure the knot a little more tightly.  
  
Adam glanced at Anne, and clasped her hand as Anne knelt down in front of Marilla. All of the youth that had always sparkled so in Anne's eyes still remained, Marilla noted, and that irreplaceable beauty was still evident in her smile and complexion. Anne had gotten her wish, she considered at that moment. She had become beautiful when she was grown up.  
  
Anne took a deep breath. 'Well, Marilla, we do have some gossip,' she said, a smile spreading across her face. 'Marilla, Rachel – Adam and I are getting married.'  
  
Marilla gasped in horror, but quickly disguised her reaction with a cough and a smile. 'Congratulations,' she said, swallowing the words she so wanted to say aloud. 'Adam, you must be – real proud.' She smiled, gritting her teeth thus.  
  
Rachel, however, was overjoyed. 'Oh, my Lord,' she cried, 'oh, congratulations!' She wrapped Anne and Adam, in turn, in a hug so tight that it took many minutes for Rachel to finally draw away and look at the couple in sheer admiration. She had no way to express her supreme, irrepressible happiness. 'You must let me help plan the wedding, Anne. I will not allow you to leave me out of the preparations!' She hugged them both again.   
  
Anne laughed a warm, deep laugh. 'Of course, Rachel,' she said, patting the woman's time-creased fingers. 'And you too, Marilla.'  
  
Marilla smiled slightly, continuing her cross-stitch. 'I'd like to.'  
  
***  
  
Anne waited until the following day to break the news to Diana, though she was aching to let forth her news that night. Adam had convinced her to remain patient.  
  
'Darling,' he said, 'Diana won't run away. Not like Gilbert.' Immediately as he spoke, he cursed himself for bringing up Gilbert Blythe's name, both for his purposes and Anne's reasons. Anne still became rather upset sometimes if the subject slipped into a conversation in which Anne was involved. And Adam was still slightly sour over their evidently close relationship.  
  
Anne turned quiet. 'I know,' she said, the smile dissolving from her face. 'I'm going to bed now, sweetheart.' She yawned. 'I'm so tired. I'll see you in the morning.'  
  
She hurried up the stairs and immediately stepped into bed. Now, after so many weeks of wiping the thought of Gilbert from her mind, somebody had carelessly slipped his name back into her thoughts, and stirred her soul from its peaceful slumber.   
  
Diana was shocked when Anne told her she was marrying Adam Lynde the following morning.   
  
'But – Anne – you're marrying…Adam?' she asked in astonished disbelief.  
  
The smile on Anne's face faltered slightly. 'Aren't you happy for me, Diana?'  
  
Diana hugged her friend. 'Oh, of course I am, darling. It's just…well…I always thought that you and Adam…well…' She fished for the right words that wouldn't offend Anne. 'I never thought it was…that serious. That he was just a passing beau. That's all. I'm sorry.'  
  
Anne shook her head. 'Don't be,' she said. 'I can understand if you feel that way. I feel so happy, and yet I'm unsure. Am I doing the right thing?' She stared helplessly at Diana.  
  
Diana knew that Anne was most certainly doing the wrong thing, but did not want to say anything of it. She knew she was still fragile and quite prone to tears, owing to Gilbert's sudden departure. 'Of course you are, Anne,' she said, slipping a reassuring arm around her shoulders. She made the decision to change the subject. 'Have you chosen a date yet? I simply must help with the wedding, I insist on that!'  
  
Anne laughed, pulling herself from Diana's arms. 'We think it may be best to have it fairly soon, so we've settled for three weeks from Saturday. Is that soon enough to satisfy you, my dear Lady Diana?'  
  
Diana curtsied in an aristocratic manner. 'My beloved Anne, I would be simply delighted.'  
  
'In that case,' Anne said, with a twinkle of mischief in her eye, 'you are to be my, and mine only, wedding planner extraordinaire.'  
  
Diana thrilled to the idea. 'Naturally. The Lady of Shalott must always have the professionals at hand.' 


	14. A Visit to Dr Hagermann

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  
  
'Mr. Blythe, Dr. Hagerman wishes to speak to you in his office.' The operating room's procedure was interrupted as Paul Smith, a young doctor who had recently been appointed to the head of the obstetrics department, called Gilbert from in the middle of his surgery assignment.  
  
Gilbert glanced up from the operating table, where he had finished diligently stitching up a slit in his patient's abdomen. 'Yes, Paul,' he said. 'I'll just be a minute to clean up, sir.'  
  
Gilbert placed his instruments on the operating trolley and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink situated in the corner of the room. Pulling his mask from his face, he strolled decisively toward the grand office situated on the fifth floor of the prestigious London hospital.  
  
He had been working there for just over a month and a half, and already was considered, or so the medical board insisted, that he was one of the finest doctors that the organization had ever before had the honour of having as a member of staff.  
  
'Sir, you wish to speak to me?' Gilbert appeared in the doorway of Dr Hagerman's office. The doctor in question was seated in his grand leather chair, evidently occupied in no particular activity at the time of Gilbert's arrival.  
  
'Ah, yes, Dr Blythe. Please, sit down.'  
  
Gilbert, who was in awe of the extravagancy of the office, seated himself in the great leather chair with a thud.  
  
'Now, boy, you may know that I've been proud of your work here.' Dr Hagerman was an elderly man with a face not unlike that of a goat, complete with a monocle that perfected this goat-like appearance. His usually stern expression seemed less intense during Gilbert's visit; his fear of this rather terrifying old man was somewhat diminished, though he still thought his luck would have suited him better should Dr Hagerman have not wished to speak to him at all.  
  
'Yes, sir,' Gilbert answered politely, not quite sure where the conversation was heading. A tumble of thoughts were swimming through his mind, and they all seemed fragmented and confused.   
  
Dr Hagerman sighed and stretched, causing his leather chair to crackle slightly under the strain. 'I feel no need to beat around the bush,' he boomed suddenly, making Gilbert jump. 'You're a fine doctor, boy, and I want you to remain on staff at MacIntyre Hospital. Permanently.' He brought his palm down onto his desk with a deafening thud. 'What do you say, boy?'  
  
Gilbert stammered. His ordinary confidence seemed to fail him, and cursed himself for not being able to compose himself and come across as the fine, professional doctor so many others considered him to be. 'Well – uh – sir – you see…' The words choked in his throat. Gilbert fingered the folded paper in his pocket. Until now, he hadn't considered the idea. Now, suddenly, after Dr Hagerman's unexpected announcement, he suddenly realised that perhaps he should take it into consideration, though he knew not what he would be getting into.   
  
Gilbert took a deep breath. 'Thankyou very much, sir,' he said steadily, almost disbelieving his calmness. 'I appreciate the idea. But you see…I will be returning to – to Canada within the week. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to take you up on your offer, though if I were to stay in London, I would certainly say yes.' He swallowed, eyeing the elderly man. Neither moved; neither spoke. It was silent for a few minutes.  
  
'All right, boy,' he said, 'it's up to you. But you must know I would have been quite pleased to make – er – certain allowances in the finance department. Perhaps five hundred pounds a month would make you reconsider my offer.' He grinned a horrible grin that exposed his yellowed teeth. Gilbert shuddered. He had only met this Dr Hagerman once before, and he had never liked him. Now he was certain. The sooner he could escape from his office, the better.  
  
'Thankyou, sir, but no. I think I'll have to decline.'  
  
Dr Hagerman raised his eyebrows in half hearted defeat. 'Suit yourself, lad. When are you finishing?'  
  
'I think I might make this my last day, sir, if it suits you.'  
  
Dr Hagerman stood and thumped Gilbert on the back. 'You get out of here, lad,' he said in a surprisingly kindly tone. 'Go back home. And don't let me catch you here again.'  
  
Gilbert smiled. 'I won't, sir. I won't.'  
  
As Gilbert strolled out of the office, he pulled off his operating gown for the last time. On a sudden whim of impulse, he pulled from his pocket the letter that had sat there, untouched, for the past week. Unfolding it, he reread the words scrawled in messy black ink, smudged from the folds and continued moisture.  
  
'Okay, Dad,' he whispered, pocketing the paper. 'I'm coming home.'  
  
------------------------  
  
A/N For those who've seen Anne of Green Gables and the Continuing Story (which, by the way, I enjoyed yet disliked at the same time - it was far too dramatic for Anne), you might recognise the similarities between this Dr Hagermann and that scary old publisher - what was his name?  
  
I based Dr Hagermann on him, at least in terms of looks and manner...thought you might be interested to know that.  
  
Anyway, PLEASE review! Thanks.  
  
------------------------ 


	15. Alice Lawson Is Outspoken

CHAPTER FIFTEEN  
  
Diana drove round to Green Gables in the Wright buggy the next afternoon. Anne was alone, sitting peacefully on the back verandah. Her hair was pulled back in a braid; she wore her blue and white dress that so many agreed suited her. Diana smiled. 'Are you coming, Anne?' she called out. Anne looked up, and hurried toward the buggy.   
  
'Oh, I'm so looking forward to today,' she said happily, as Diana began to veer the buggy from the Green Gables yard. 'Adam has gone to look for suits with Rachel.'  
  
Diana looked at Anne. 'So how is Rachel taking the news? I'm sure she's absolutely devastated.' She spoke the last few words in pure sarcasm.  
  
Anne laughed. 'She's thrilled. I think she's happier about it than either I am or even Adam.' She paused. 'Adam seems so happy.'  
  
Diana hugged her friend quickly. 'Of course he is, Anne,' she smiled. 'He adores you. But…' She didn't finish her sentence. She felt it cruel to bring up the subject when Anne was so happy with everything.  
  
They halted the buggy as they drew closer to Lawson's Mercantile. It seemed so long since Anne had visited…Alice Lawson, the spritely shopkeeper, was such a dear, though dreadfully talkative. Still, Anne could hardly blame her, after all. Now she was visiting to arrange material for her wedding dress. Anne was simply beside herself with excitement. Shopping for a wedding dress! The very words thrilled her to the core.  
  
Alice Lawson was indeed thrilled at the news. 'Why, Anne Shirley – you're getting married!' She clapped her hands together. 'Oh, congratulations! And congratulate Gilbert, too – he must be so proud.'  
  
Anne's face fell. 'But – Alice,' she said. 'I'm not marrying Gilbert. I'm marrying Adam!'  
  
Alice Lawson frowned. 'Adam? Adam who?'  
  
Anne leaned in. 'Adam Lynde. Rachel's grandson?'  
  
Alice shook her head. 'No, can't say I've ever heard of him.' Evidently, fumed Anne, the gossips in Avonlea didn't reach as far as Lawson's Mercantile. How else could Alice not know that Gilbert had been missing for so long?  
  
When Anne was out of earshot, Diana whispered to Alice, 'Gilbert has been missing from Avonlea for almost three months. Nobody knows where he has gone.'  
  
Alice paled and a hand flew to her mouth. 'Oh dear!' she cried. 'Me and my big mouth. Oh, for land's sake. I won't say another word about Gilbert, you can trust me with that.'  
  
Diana continued. 'She's here to buy a dress. For the wedding. Can you help us?'  
  
'So, Anne,' Alice said, loudly so that Anne could hear her all the way from across the quaint store. 'What kind of dress would you like? Will you be buying a dress or just the material?'  
  
Anne whirled around from the window. 'Well…' she said. 'It really does depend on what I find.'  
  
Alice swept across the floor, basked with an invisible glow of excitement. 'Well, now, I do have one wedding dress in stock – it's just arrived from Charlottetown.' She pulled a dress from the mannequin, perched in the window. 'And I think it would be just your size, or thereabouts! Oh, this is almost too perfect. Would you like to try it on?'  
  
Anne glanced at the dress. 'Oh, it's so beautiful!' she gasped. 'Oh, I must have that dress!' She stroked the elegant folds of the creamy white dress, its dazzling sequins sewn delicately along the bodice. 'Diana, don't you think so?'  
  
Diana linked her arm with Anne's and grinned. 'I think it is exquisitely beautiful. Speak of puffed sleeves!' She indicated toward the puffed sleeves, a stunning feature of the dress. 'Ideal for the likes of a lily maid.'  
  
Anne hugged Alice Lawson, who looked slightly bewildered, and could not seem to speak, which was a state of being she was not well acquainted with. 'I'll have to buy it,' Anne said.  
  
'Won't you even try it on?'  
  
'I don't have to, Alice!' Anne whirled around, eyes shining brightly, clutching the gown to her body. 'It's perfect! I love it. It will fit, I know it will. And if it doesn't...I'll make it fit, just you wait and see.'  
  
Alice grinned. 'It's supposed to be twenty dollars, but I think that it ought to be five. After all, you must have a wedding present from me. Will that do, Anne Shirley?'  
  
Anne hugged her even harder. 'Oh, thankyou! You must come to the wedding, Alice, and don't you dare consider otherwise!'  
  
Alice Lawson looked into Anne's shining eyes and smiled broadly. There was an air of pure exhiliration and excitement in the shop that day. 'I wouldn't dare miss something so wonderful.'  
  
***  
  
'Oh, Marilla, what do you think?'  
  
Anne clattered through the back door of Green Gables, her dress folded carefully and wrapped in a parcel of brown paper, which she clutched protectively underneath her arm.  
  
'What do you I think of what?' Marilla looked up from the cross-stitch she was completing. 'Anne Shirley, what are you talking about?'  
  
'My dress, my dress!' Anne cried, pulling it from its folds and holding it up against her body for display. 'Oh, Marilla, isn't it beautiful? And it's mine, my very own wedding gown.'  
  
Marilla looked at with careful scrutiny through her glasses, resting on the bridge of her nose. 'It's nice, yes,' she said. 'A little too excessive, perhaps. Puffed sleeves. Good lord, you never did quench that obsession.' She chuckled. 'My word, Anne,' she said, 'you remind me now of the thirteen year old Anne, the one who was dancing about the house after Matthew bought you your first puff-sleeved dress.'   
  
'Oh, I remember,' Anne reminisced, seating herself in the chair opposite Marilla. 'My first ball, the Christmas ball. And I almost couldn't go, but Matthew finally convinced you that I ought to. And then I asked Gil to dance...' Her voice trailed off, and she felt that she might cry from nostalgia. At that moment, she just wished Gilbert was there. Trustworthy, amiable, witty, caring Gilbert. The one she could run to with whatever problem she had, and talk about old times with. 'Well. I'd best go and put this dress upstairs.' She disappeared, tears prickling at her eyes. Suddenly, her wedding dress felt heavy in her arms. She just wanted her friend back. Her good, dear, wonderful friend Gilbert Blythe.  
  
Marilla greeted Diana, meanwhile, downstairs. 'Hello, Diana.'  
  
'What was all that about?' Diana asked Marilla.  
  
Marilla sighed deeply, and flashed a glance to the ceiling, where Anne's room was positioned. 'I think,' Marilla said, 'that this is what they call the moment of truth. I can see troubles ahead.'  
  
Diana nodded. 'I might have to strangle Gilbert if he ever comes back.'  
  
'Oh, you do that,' Marilla chuckled, 'and do it again, for me. That boy is going to get a talking to and a half.'  
  
'At any rate,' Diana said, 'I think Anne is beginning to see the situation for what it is. A flighty, romantic infatuation with a handsome man. And it's not the first time it's happened.'  
  
'I certainly hope so,' Marilla said. 'That she is seeing it for what it is. Because,' she finished, 'if she doesn't, then certain people are going to be very hurt.'  
  
'Who will be hurt?' Rachel asked suddenly, as she appeared through the back door, with Adam following closely behind.  
  
Marilla and Diana eyed one another, and their expression spoke a thousand words.  
  
'Nothing, Rachel,' they replied, in perfect unison. 


End file.
